


Out to Sea Again

by HazelNMae



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, NSFW, Non-Graphic Violence, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-10-11 06:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelNMae/pseuds/HazelNMae
Summary: Alfie didn’t know many women who would look beyond what he was doing, let alone actually appreciate it.So he asked you on a proper date, confessed his feelings for you, and the rest was true love.Until it wasn’t.





	1. Chapter 1

Alfie helped you into the car, placing his broad hand on the small of your back. The touch elicited a faint smile from you, but you wouldn’t let him see it.

It was gestures like this that reminded you why you loved Alfie Solomons. He was always so tender with you, even when he was obstinate, stubborn, foolish–he was always tender.

You _did_ love Alfie Solomons. Despite the hell he’d put you through over the years, you couldn’t help but love him. Intimate dinners like the one you’d just shared were few and far between these days, but your love remained through all the heartache and conflict.

You’d been sweethearts since childhood, sharing in so much of your lives. 

As children, you ran around his father’s bakery day after day, playing cops and robbers, and making a general mess about the business. His father never seemed to care that you were underfoot, though, just happy that his son was happy.

As you grew a bit older, your interests diverged. You found yourself drawn to art and music. Alfie found himself drawn to sports and money.

But through it all, your friendship remained. You were there for him when he lost his parents. Consoled him through his grief and helped him muster the strength to take over his father’s business.

You were friends when he went away to war, but exchanged so many letters while he was there that you were something else entirely when he returned home. 

And he _was_ something else. Not just changed by war, but changed by ambition. He quickly altered the face of his father’s business, using the bakery as a front for untaxed, illegal rum distillation. And as difficult as it was to watch him fight his enemies, fight the law, fight everyone to rise to the top, you were proud of him. He’d made up his mind to create more for himself, and that was something you’d support, regardless of what it meant to anyone else.

Alfie recognized that, too, and knew he’d be a fool to let you go. He didn’t know many women who would look beyond what he was doing, let alone actually appreciate it. 

So he asked you on a proper date, confessed his feelings for you, and the rest was true love.

Until it wasn’t.

The business picked up. Alfie was getting noticed. 

It was good for the bottom line, but worrisome for you both. As much as he’d never admit it, Alfie feared the new attention from rivals and potential business partners alike.

His fear kept him from committing to you properly. He thought–incorrectly–that keeping you at a bit of a distance would keep you out of harm’s way. You already lived in his house, worked with him each day, and accompanied him on most business related travel, but somehow not calling you his ‘wife’ made him feel better about your safety. 

It’s not that you needed to be married to him. You knew Alfie loved you, and was committed to you, but there was a small part of you that wondered if it were fair that you couldn’t marry the love of your life.

Alfie worried about the people he found in his circle–rival gangs, shady business partners, corrupt police. He feared you’d become a target.

One such person was of particular concern. 

He’d worked with Tommy Shelby in the past, fixing races and throwing over an Italian gang for control of on track betting. You had never met the notorious Brummie, nor wanted to after the rumors you’d heard. But he had recently visited the bakery and while you knew better than to ask, you were certain Alfie was about to go into business with him–again.

As you sat in the car, on the way to Tommy’s palatial estate in Warwickshire, you imagined what the business might be.

It wasn’t like Alfie to keep secrets from you, usually telling you of every plan. But he’d yet to share any details about this particular venture, choosing instead to ask you to join him as a distraction–though you weren’t sure whether he meant a distraction for Tommy or himself.

As the car pulled up to the house, you felt your heart rate rise. Beautiful wasn’t the right word. It was beautiful, but in a dark and tortured way. It was a house, a mansion, like you’d expect to find in the pages of Dostoyevsky. Brooding and cold, full of secrets to be uncovered. 

Alfie helped you out of the car as he turned to face the house. 

“Are you ready, love?” he asked. 

You didn’t respond, unable to find the words. 

Alfie noticed.

“Hmmm, no. I’m not sure I am either.”


	2. Chapter 2

As you walked into the house, you instinctively leaned in closer to Alfie. The house was overwhelming, in both size and tone. It was huge, but dark and contemplative. You felt a shiver run down your spine but tried to convince yourself it was the chill in the autumn air and not the inexplicable urge to run coursing through you.

You squeezed tightly to Alfie’s arm and he patted your hand to calm you.

As you entered the house, you first took note not of the ornate woodwork or gilded frames adorning the wall, but the warm smell of vanilla. It was exactly not what you’d expected. You thought a man like Tommy Shelby would live in a home that smelled of cedar and rosewood, not freshly baked cookies. 

But before you could make sense of it, Tommy appeared in the foyer to welcome you.

It was the closest you’d ever been to him and as he approached to greet you, you realized he really was as handsome as the rumors claimed. You noted his chiseled face, all cheek and jaw bones, his smooth skin, the flecks of silver in his hair. 

The devastating blue of his eyes.

It’s not that you’d never found another man attractive nor that you were so naive as to think Alfie to never looked at other women. But the way you looked at Tommy now made you blush. 

Tommy Shelby was... striking. 

He was also terrifying.

And he made a statement without saying a word. 

You knew immediately that he was surprised, and not pleasantly, to see you. 

“Mr. Solomons” he said to Alfie, though he didn’t break his gaze from you. “Come.”

He stood aside and motioned toward the office off the main hallway. Alfie let you walk first, keeping his hand square on your lower back, in a small gesture to remind you he was there. You were grateful for it, as it kept you grounded, but you were also furious with Alfie. He’d clearly not told Tommy you’d be joining them. And now you feared you’d float away on your shame if Alfie removed his hand from you.

You entered the office to see another man perched against the fireplace. His look was severe, like Tommy’s, but in a brute way.

“Shalom, Arthur!” Alfie bellowed, happily. It was clear he was goading the man, though you weren’t sure why.

Arthur’s nostrils flared, but he held his cool, glancing at Tommy as if for support. 

“Right, well,” Tommy started, clearing his throat. “I apologize, I wasn’t expecting you’d bring a guest.”

He stood behind his desk, apparently waiting for Alfie to sit first.

But Alfie remained standing as well.

“Yeah, well, about that, mate. You’ve got your own guest, yeah?” He gestured toward Arthur. “So I suppose we’re even then, right?”

Arthur gripped a crystal ashtray on the table. You’d seen plenty of people angry with Alfie over the years. Had seen him fight. Had even witnessed guns drawn, both _from_ and _on_ him. But you’d never seen a man so seething with rage at Alfie actively fighting to keep it contained.

Just then, Tommy spoke toward the man, but he didn’t use English.

And it was clear, though he spoke multiple languages, Alfie hadn’t understood him.

But you had. 

It was a language you hadn’t heard in years, but you recognized it. Romani. 

Your grandmother had been Romani. She spoke the language almost exclusively, refusing to use anything else so that your entire family had to learn and use it in her presence. 

And although you hadn’t heard it in years, you could make out what Tommy had said.

He’d told his brother to leave. That he could handle Alfie without him. And that he’d learn what you were doing there.

And it suddenly became clear why Alfie had brought you. He needed you. Not as a distraction. Not for legitimate business. But because you understood their language. Clearly they'd used it in front of him before. And he wasn't going to let them continue to do so.

Your face must have given you away, because Tommy stared at you, unblinking--knowingly. 

You sat up a little straighter in your chair and smirked, feeling confident, as Arthur made his way from the room. You found yourself in a position of power, no longer needing to fear him or let him intimidate you.

“Won’t you introduce me?” Tommy asked Alfie as he nodded his head toward you.

“Ahh, well, this is (Y/N). She’s my business associate. Accompanies me to all the important meetings, right. Couldn’t leave her out of this one, yeah?”

Tommy looked you over.

It was bullshit, he knew. And you knew that he knew. Neither Tommy nor Alfie entered into any business relationship without carefully researching their partners and enemies. You knew Tommy was already aware of your true identity and your relationship to Alfie. And Alfie knew it too. He’d chosen to lie, even though he already knew Tommy wouldn’t buy it.

“Well, perhaps now that my brother has left the meeting, your _business associate_ should too,” Tommy said, stressing your sham of a title. 

“Right,” Alfie responded. And, turning to you, he continued, “Why don’t you explore the grounds a bit, love? Mr. Shelby has horses. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you visiting them.”

You looked to Tommy for confirmation, but his expression didn't change.

“Frances can show you the way,” he said as you stood and gathered your coat.

“Oh, and love,” Alfie added. “Try not to spook them this time.” 

You left the office, closing the door behind you and shaking off the dread that had washed over you. You weren't sure why, but you were feeling uneasy about this business and were ready to get out of there as soon as you could. 

“Has a tendency to put a spell on most creatures, that one.” Alfie said to Tommy now that you were out of earshot.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Tommy said quietly, turning his cigarette over between his fingers and looking out the window as you made your way across the yard and toward the stables in the twilight. 

“No doubt.”


	3. Chapter 3

You were angry with Alfie for not telling you his true intentions. For taking you along to the meeting to prove a point. In an attempt to scare Tommy into submission. 

But you were hurt for the same reason. You were hurt that Alfie apparently either hadn’t trusted you or hadn’t cared enough to share his plan with you.

And you were confused because up until that point, Alfie had always been honest with you about his business plans–especially when they involved you.

The argument in the car on your way home hadn’t been particularly volatile. It certainly wasn’t the worst you’d shared. But it left you feeling uncertain about your relationship with Alfie, for what you thought was probably the first time. 

You tried to put it all behind you and by the time you reached the home you shared with him, Alfie acted as if nothing had happened. He went about his typical evening routine, taking the dog for a quick walk, dressing for bed, and curling up in his favorite chair with a book.

He even ran you a nice bath, which you assumed was his silent apology. 

And you accepted it, sinking into the warm water with a glass of wine. You lay your head back on the edge of the tub and gave into the weight of your eyelids, letting them close and your body finally relax. 

In that moment you realized you had been holding tension in your head and neck all evening–no doubt a result of both fear and frustration. The water helped to soothe your aching muscles, though, and you remained there until you noticed the pruning skin of your hands and feet. 

You emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a towel, body still slick with wet. 

Alfie noticed, staring at you over the small frames he now wore when he read.

You smiled and moved toward the dressing table. But before you could reach it, Alfie had discarded the half-read book and his glasses and had caught you by the waist, turning you quickly to face him. Before you even had a chance to look him in the eye, he had crashed his lips to yours and pressed you against the edge of the bed. 

You fell back and he yanked away the towel, quickly climbed on top of you. He steadied his weight on his forearms above you for a moment, kissing you more gently than he had before. It was as if he was trying to tell you something. As if he wanted to remind you that he cared for you. That he wouldn’t put you in harms way.

You felt a familiar but long neglected tightening in the pit of your stomach, your need for him building. It had been a few weeks since you’d been intimate with Alfie and you hadn’t been ready for the desire to overcome you so completely. 

Alfie kissed his way down your body, stopping to run his tongue along each breast. Your nipples reacted to the sensation of the cool air hitting the spots his tongue left damp.

He continued to explore lower and you were reminded just why you loved Alfie Solomons when he buried his head between your legs. He rolled his tongue slowly, too slowly given how badly you wanted it, around your swollen clit. His movements now seemed to say something completely different. Seemed to remind you that you belonged to him. That no other man could make you feel what he could.

After a few seconds, he placed your thighs atop his shoulders and wrapped his arms around you so that his large, calloused hands could cup your breasts. His hands were rough, but their movements were soft.

When he moaned against you, your body jerked automatically in response. When he lifted his eye to meet yours, you lost control. Your orgasm came faster than you expected. 

As soon as he was convinced you were properly satisfied, Alfie made quick work to remove his pants and position you beneath him. He pushed his cock into you slowly and let out a long, deep groan as you both adjusted to the sensation. Your own breath caught in your throat at the feel of it. The weight of him above you. The sounds he made. The fact that you could make him come undone–this big, powerful gangster–would never cease to turn you on.

He finally began to move, with agonizingly slow and long thrusts that seemed to drive himself as mad as they drove you. 

“God you feel so fucking good,” he whispered into your hair as you took his ear between your teeth. 

Your breath on his neck sent him reeling and he picked up the pace. 

“So fucking wet,” he added, this time more of a grunt than anything. 

You let out a low moan, your body no longer responsible for what fell from your lips. 

Your eyes slammed shut with pleasure as you sensed him growing closer to his undoing.

Just then, without warning, you saw him. 

Tommy. 

In your mind's eye. As you seemed to watch from outside of your own body. From above. It was Tommy fucking you. His alabaster skin slick with sweat. The long hairs atop his head falling into his eyes as he thrust into you deeper and deeper. His groans bouncing off the walls of the room and landing between your legs.

You opened your eyes quickly, but it was too late. You had seen him. Fuck, you had practically felt him. And the sensation was stuck with you. The image carved into your eyes, lingering there well after they no longer had the backdrop of your eyelids to land on. 

If you reacted at all, Alfie didn’t notice it. His increased speed sent him to the edge and he came hard and fast, spilling inside of you with a groan that ordinarily would have pushed you over the brink yourself. But you barely registered it.

It was the only time you’d ever thought of another man in bed.

Alfie rested his head on your shoulder, planting small kisses there as he came down from his high. 

He finally pulled his head back enough to look at you.

“You alright, love?” he asked.

You just mumbled an affirmation with a quick nod, and tried to muster a small smile.

But you were most certainly _not_ alright.


	4. Chapter 4

You’d been waiting by the window for an hour when a car finally pulled up in front of your house. But it wasn’t Alfie’s car. He’d promised to pick you up, at 7pm sharp for the gala event at Arrow House, but, as had been the case more frequently as of late, the window in which you’d expected him to arrive had come and gone.

It was now nearly 8pm and there was a strange car outside your home.

Assuming it was Ollie come to give you a ride, you cursed under your breath as you gathered the stole Alfie had given you for your birthday last year and made your way from the house. It wasn’t until you’d nearly reached for the door handle yourself that the young driver emerged from the car and quickly made his way around to open it for you.

You were surprised to see a woman in the back seat and thought for a second you may have been mistaken that the car was for you in the first place. 

“Get in, (Y/N)” she said with a sly smile. 

You did as instructed, wondering why as you had no idea who these people were or why they seemed to know you so well. 

You were thinking to yourself how angry Alfie would be with you if he’d heard you got into the car with strangers. But before you could make up your mind about it, the woman began explaining herself.

In an accent you immediately recognized as Russian, from your experience with Alfie’s mother when you were young, she explained that she was from the Petrovna family–the guests of honor at the event. Grand Duchess Tatiana Petrovna, she explained, though that meant nothing to you. She seemed surprised at your lack of interest in her title, but you payed no attention to her bruised ego, more worried now about whatever business Tommy Shelby had pulled your Alfie into. 

“Alfie couldn’t be pulled away from his meeting with Mr. Shelby,” she said. “So he sent us.”

Alfie. _Alfie_. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach wondering why she called Alfie by his first name but referred to Tommy as “Mr. Shelby.”

You expected most women to be on a first name basis with Tommy, knowing full well his reputation not only in Birmingham but as wide as Camden Town. But hearing Alfie’s name come so casually from her lips had genuinely shocked you.

It also hurt you.

Since the night you saw him in your mind, you’d tried with all your might to push down any feelings that threatened to surface toward Tommy. You tried to chalk it up to a common slump your relationship with Alfie. It was nothing to fear, just a natural ebb to the typical flow of synchronicity you shared with him.

But now, hearing _Grand Duchess Tatiana Petrovna_ speak so intimately about him, you began to wonder if there weren’t more at play than you knew.

And the thought of that made you sick. 

You grasped at the door handle to steady yourself, completely ignoring whatever the duchess was rambling on about. 

All you could think of was Alfie.

* * *

You watched as he slowly spun her around the room, trying to keep hidden how upsetting it was for you to watch him hold her so closely. You knew the duchess could sense your insecurity because she kept making small glances in your direction followed immediately by bright smiles and laughter, although you were sure Alfie hadn’t said anything to prompt it.

Just as you felt your face begin to flush, you felt a presence at your side stood slightly behind you.

You smelled his aftershave. This is what you’d expected when you went into his home the first time. The clean and crisp scent of cedar with the warmness of wood. He said nothing for several moments, but you could sense from him that he was watching the same scene you were with the same concerns you had.

He confirmed as much when he said, “Perhaps we should give them a run for their money.”

You turned to see Tommy with a hand outstretched toward you, gesturing for you to join him in a dance. 

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t have dreamed of accepting. Especially after what already seemed to be brewing between you. But seeing Alfie with another woman in his arms, with seemingly no regard for how it made you feel, only motivated you to take him up on his offer.

You nodded in an almost imperceptible gesture and placed your hand in his. 

Tommy made a show of it, walking you to the middle of the floor to ensure everyone noticed, before pulling you in close. 

His breath was warm as it blew the small hairs that had fallen around your face. The hand on your back held you firmly to him. His other tapped with the rhythm of the song on the back of your hand.

And all of that you could handle. You even considered it a slight victory and thought of how jealous Alfie would be when he noticed.

“I need to know something,” Tommy said, catching you off guard. 

You nodded quickly. Your heart began to race.

And that’s when he said it. That little question that would hang with you for weeks. Those words you’d think about and overthink as you sipped your tea each morning until you saw him again. The words that would, unbeknownst to you, light the fuse that eventually destroyed life as you knew it.

“Why do you insist on haunting my dreams every fucking night?” 


	5. Chapter 5

You sat at the breakfast table, languidly sipping your tea, unable to stomach the toast sat in front of you. 

Alfie had hurried off to work before you had even fully dressed for the day, so you decided to take your time getting ready. You had a lot on your mind, after all, and couldn’t concentrate anyway. It had been three days since you could concentrate–on practically anything.

Tommy’s comment had caught you completely off guard. Not until that moment had it even occurred to you that your growing interest in him might be reciprocated. Thankfully, the song had ended just after he asked you his loaded question, before the delay in your response could become awkward. You thanked him for the dance and moved away from him quickly. You could still feel his hand, warm, on the small of your back. The tapping of his fingers from the other hand playing along your skin. 

Alfie must have noticed your discomfort, because before you knew it he was stood at your side, concern washing over his face.

“Love, what’s happened?” he asked, unsure of what to do.

“I’m fine, I just think I need some air,” you answered, turning to walk away from him.

But Alfie grabbed your arm and made you turn back to face him. He looked at you, into your eyes, and found the sadness there.

“What’s going on?”

“I said I’m fine, Alfie. I just need to get out of this room.”

He let you go this time and you walked toward the large double doors and out into the cool night air. 

You found yourself immediately circling the house, headed for the stables where you’d ventured the first time you came to Arrow House with Alfie. Something about being outside, under the stars, the coolness in the air, comforted you. Your heard the horses before you could see them, stomping their feet to greet you.

They were smart animals, seeming to understand exactly what you needed. 

The gray bucked her head in your direction, so you stepped closer to her, laying your hand on her neck. Just like you had on your previous visit, you connected with her immediately. She calmed, leaned into you almost. And you felt a wave of calm wash over you.

Thinking back on that night now, sat at your breakfast table, made you feel anxious again. It had been a few days, but you longed to return to that stable. To seek the comfort hidden within. 

And you decided to seek the answers you so desperately needed.

* * *

You marched through the bakery ignoring all the men who tried to stop and talk to you. They were accustomed to seeing you there, but usually on Alfie’s arm. It was clear you’d dropped in unexpectedly and the air with which you walked made it even more obvious still that this wasn’t likely to be a friendly visit.

You knocked on Alfie’s office door, but didn’t wait for him to welcome you in before opening the door.

Alfie swung around in his chair, expecting to find Ollie or some other poor sod standing there and prepared to give him the what for.

When he saw it was you, though, his demeanor immediately changed. 

He looked worried. As if your presence there, unannounced, must only mean trouble. 

For a moment, you forgot your purpose for coming. Something about Alfie, sat at his desk, got to you. 

You always loved watching him work. When he was in his element, truly in control of the moment, he was so remarkable. He’d taken to rolling up his shirt sleeves when he worked, after you scolded him about how difficult it was to wash out all the ink stains that collected on his cuffs. And as simple as it sounded, the way he rolled up his cuffs, his strong forearms on display, showing you only the slightest bit of the strength you knew lay beneath the cotton, drove you mad. 

You licked your lips instinctively. 

Alfie noticed.

“Come for a midday romp, did ya?” He asked, assuming he could lighten the mood.

“No, Alfie,” you replied, pushing down the urge to take him up on the offer.

He removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. 

“So we’re going to talk about the gala then? Right. Knew we’d get around to it eventually, love. Come in. Sit.” He motioned toward the chair across from his desk.

Feeling awkward, as if you were another potential business partner there to broker a deal, you sat and jumped right in.

“Are you fucking the duchess?” You asked without looking him in the eye.

Alfie’s eyes narrowed. As much as he wanted to be the kind of man who could keep his thoughts from forming on his face, he wasn’t. And you knew as soon as you’d asked it that you shouldn’t have. 

Of course Alfie wasn’t fucking the duchess. You regretted ever thinking he could. Regretted a lot of things.

He leaned forward in his chair and stroked his beard. He just looked at you. And you could see in that look that you’d hurt him.

“Alfie,” you said now, trying to correct course. “It’s not that–”

“I know what it is, love,” he interrupted you. 

You stood, walked around the desk and kissed him on the top of the head. Laying your hand on his shoulder, you bent down to look him in the eye. 

“I’ll be home late,” you said. “I need to make a quick trip.”

You then turned to go, glancing one more time over your shoulder to look at him. Alfie just nodded, not even needing to ask where you were going. 

He already knew.

* * *

“Do you ride?” a voice asked from behind. He startled you, but you knew instantly it was Tommy. The deep rasp of his voice, the thick Brummie accent, you’d know the voice anywhere.

Without turning to face him, you answered. “I did. But it’s been a very long time.”

“Would you like to?” he asked, moving to stand beside you.

You turned to look at him and were met once again by his piercing gaze. 

You’d heard so many women attempt to describe Tommy’s eyes. So many times. But you realized now they’d never be able to do them justice. 

Those eyes darted between your own then fell to your mouth. You could tell he was taking stock of your features the same way you’d done of his every time you met.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how close you were standing.

“Yes,” you answered.

Tommy took a step back, seemingly surprised you’d agreed. He looked you over, noticing your boots for the first time and realizing then that you’d come prepared to ride. You’d planned on him offering, that or you’d planned on stealing his horse. And he couldn’t be sure which was most likely.

“But only if you’ll let me lead for once, Mr. Shelby.” 

* * *

You’d been riding for some time and were sure Tommy would be tiring of it by now. You turned back to gauge his expression and were surprised to find the same stoicism you’d seen him brandish each time you’d met before. 

It didn’t much matter because you were drawing near to the clearing and began to slow the gray beneath you. Tommy followed suit, coming to a trot next to you. He didn’t say a word, though, still intrigued enough for you to have control.

As you crested the hill, you looked down into the valley below. There it stood, just as it had now for years. 

A vardo, painted green, stood close to a thicket of trees in the middle of the field. The fire was burning, sending its smoke up like a signal to a lost place gone unnoticed.

“My family, Mr. Shelby.”

You saw Tommy glance your direction out of the corner of your eye, but didn’t turn to face him directly. Instead, you moved down the hill and toward the camp. 

And after a moment, you heard him follow.


	6. Chapter 6

You sat at the fire, feet folded beneath you, chewing the mint leaf slowly. You watched Tommy as he sat at the small wooden table across from your great aunt Aishe, the only of your grandmother’s siblings who still traveled. She was holding Tommy’s hands, turning them over, trying to read the lines. Tommy stared back at her intently. If he were bothered by the fact that you’d brought him to your family’s camp, he didn’t show it.**  
**

In truth, you were happy to have a reason to return to them. After your grandmother passed, your family rarely visited. You’d brought Alfie, of course, as your family would want to approve of the man you intended to spend your life with. But very few occasions gave you reason to visit these days, though you did seek answers from your great aunt when you were having a hard time making sense of your feelings. She’d always had a way of reading people. And it was that skill you desperately sought now.

You watched a pack of children running wild through the field, no doubt the sons and daughters of some cousin or other. It struck you how you’d never properly met any of them. It was only your grandmother and great aunt you’d ever actually spent time with. 

Your mind had wandered so far that you were startled to hear Aishe call your name. You stood and moved toward her, passing Tommy along the way.

She put her arm around your waist and pulled you into a slow walk down the bank of the river.

After a few moments you stopped and turned to see Tommy had taken your place at the fireside and was now laughing, actually laughing, with a few of your cousins. 

Aishe took your face in her hands.

“You’re conflicted,” she said, speaking in Romani now. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“I didn’t come here for that, Aunt Aishe,” you returned in the same tongue.

“I know. I do.”

You began walking again, waiting for her to tell you what you’d come to learn. She understood and walked alongside you again.

“You know what kind of man he is,” she said. 

You nodded. 

You did know what kind of man you were dealing with. You’d heard all the rumors about the entire Shelby family. And although he still hadn’t shared the details of their current strategy, Alfie had told you enough over the years to know Tommy Shelby wasn’t to be easily trusted.

“But his heart isn’t entirely black. It’s been battered and bruised over time, but there is good inside of him. And he is genuinely taken with you.”

You walked beside Aishe in silence, watching the sun set and letting her words sink in. 

Part of you had hoped she’d tell you he was pure evil and to stay away from him. You wished she’d said you’d be better off to walk away from him for good. But at the same time, you were glad she’d said there was good inside of him. That eased some of the guilt you felt for your feelings toward him. Perhaps you’d sensed the good in him. Perhaps that was what attracted you to him in the first place. Perhaps he was more like Alfie than you’d originally thought.

“There’s something else,” Aishe said to you as you turned to walk back toward the camp. “There are lies. And somewhere I sense hatred and great conflict.” She stopped walking and once again held your face in her hands.

“Take care of yourself. Don’t be the fool,” she said before leading you back to the fireside where Tommy was waiting.

* * *

You stumbled into the house, unable to see what was in front of you as it was all covered in thick darkness. Once you found your bearings, you were able to quietly remove your shoes and walk on your toes up the stairs and to your room. You half expected to see Alfie sitting up reading in bed, as he usually did, but he was already asleep, only the soft light from the moon filtering into the room through the curtains. You checked the clock and realized it was much later than you thought. 

You prepared for bed as quietly as you could, slipping into one of Alfie’s jumpers to warm yourself. It’d been cold out by the fire, and your insides still felt like they were shivering to get warm. 

As you quietly slid into the bed and snuggled up to his back, Alfie spoke. 

“And, so? What did she say about him, then?” He asked. 

You hadn’t told him where you were going when you left his office that afternoon, but he’d known anyway. He always knew you so well.

He didn’t turn to face you, so you spoke into his back, your lips grazing his skin as you did so.

“She warned me to be cautious. That I’m being lied to.”

“Hmm,” Alfie hummed encouraging you to continue.

You sat up, leaning your weight on your elbow so you could see him better, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Alf,” you said. “I need to know what’s going on.”

He lay there in silence for a few moments, no doubt trying to decide just how much he should tell you. You knew he didn’t want to put you in harm’s way, but you’d told him so many times over the years that you’d much prefer to be in the know so you were always prepared for what could come your way. You accepted his lifestyle, joined it, in fact, and keeping you in the dark wasn’t actually keeping you safe at all–at least that wasn’t the way you saw it.

“Alf,” you said again, after no response came.

He then turned to face you, pulling you back down onto the mattress and into his chest. He kissed the top of your head and looked into your eyes.

“Listen, love, what you need to know is that I’m working with Tommy to throw over these dirty Russians, yeah? And that’s all you need to know, right?” He rubbed a thumb over your cheek and down to your lips, lightly pulling on the bottom one as he watched it quiver under his touch.

You knew what he was trying to do. Alfie often used romance to change the subject. You weren’t going to let him get away with it that easily this time.

“Alfie,” you said, pushing him away playfully. “That’s not going to work. Tell me what’s going on or I swear I’ll find out for myself.”

Alfie cleared his throat, his eyes darting between your own and back to your lips over and over. 

He kissed you, pulling you in closer, his tongue exploring your mouth, his breath growing heavy. 

You pulled away from him in a last effort to get the information you wanted.

“Alfie,” you breathed out as he dropped his head, kissing your collar bone, up the delicate skin on the nape of your neck, and pulling your ear into his mouth. 

He rolled you over onto your back and let his free hand begin its exploration of your body, moving inside the large sweater and finding your breast. 

“Alfie,” you said, with a moan now. You’d given up trying to ask a question and were now just asking for more. 

“Just relax, love. We can talk about this later.”

And with that, Alfie moved down your body, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin on your ribs, down your sides, until he found the soft satin of your underwear.

“Just relax,” he said. 

You closed your eyes and let yourself forget about it all. You didn’t think of Tommy, of the prediction Aishe had made, of the danger you knew now Alfie was wrapped up in. 

At least for that moment, you only thought of Alfie Solomons.

* * *

You hurried down the stairs to answer the door. The knocking came nonstop, growing louder after you didn’t answer right away. You didn’t even look through the peephole, just wanting whoever it was to stop knocking before it set off the dogs.

The door swung open faster than you planned it, your frustration taking hold. 

And there stood Tommy Shelby.

You hadn’t expected any visitors, but you certainly didn’t expect Tommy to show up on your stoop unannounced. 

Not knowing what to say, you simply moved back from the door and motioned for Tommy to enter.

He removed his hat as he stepped through the threshold. But you didn’t invite him in further than the foyer and leaned against the wall, folding your arms across your chest, you silently invited him to explain himself.

But he didn’t. Instead, he stood there silently, looking you over. 

He was baiting you. And you knew it. But you couldn’t take the awkward silence, so you relented and broke first.

“Alfie told me what’s going on. Said it was your idea that he seduce the duchess,” you said, interested in what his justification might be. 

Alfie had implied that, after you’d both been satisfied last night and were drifting off to sleep, but he hadn’t claimed it outright.

“Then he’s lying to you,” Tommy said, leaning against the wall opposite you, mirroring your stance. “In fact, I think he’s lying to you about a lot of things,” he said, staring straight into your eyes.

And that set you off, you took three quick steps toward him and landed a slap across his face that you were sure the neighbors heard.

Tommy barely responded, holding his head steady, eyes still focused on you. You watched as the red bloomed across his cheek.

You stood like a stone, unmoving, closer to him now, breathing deep and fast, shocked at what you’d just done.

When he finally did respond, it was by grabbing your waist, pulling you in close, and kissing you, square on the mouth.

And while your mind wanted you to push him away, to scream at him, to slap him again, your body didn’t react that way.

You returned the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into his warm, strong frame.


	7. Chapter 7

You woke up in a cold sweat, shooting straight up in the bed. The lack of Alfie’s warm body beside you only added to the panic you felt in your chest. He hadn’t been home all day and you were terrified he somehow knew that Tommy had been there.

After he kissed you, Tommy had promptly placed his hat back on his head and walked out the door, without saying a word. 

You had been left standing in utter shock in the doorway.

In truth, you weren’t surprised that he’d kissed you. You weren’t oblivious to the way he looked at you. And, of course, you’d felt the tension between you growing since the day you’d met. 

But you _were_ surprised you’d kissed him back. Through all of this, you’d remained steadfast in your love for Alfie. And in truth, even kissing Tommy hadn’t changed that.

You loved Alfie. With all of your heart. And had for as long as you could remember. He provided for you, cared for you, and protected you, always. Which added to the confusion you were experiencing. 

It’s not that you were in love with Tommy. You weren’t so naive as to think that. But you were intrigued by him. Fascinated by him. And excited by him. 

And sitting in your bed, drenched in a cold sweat, you thought about him. About that kiss. About how his hands found their way into your hair, the way he pressed his body against yours, the warmth of him intoxicating you. About his taste, the way your tongue felt against his, the way your toes curled in your shoes and your hips uncontrollably pressed into him. About the way he left you breathless when he pulled away. About the way you wanted to lean in for more but somehow fought the urge. 

And the way he’d walked away as if it had never happened. 

But it had. And you had no idea what to do about it now.

Unable to force yourself back to sleep, you got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on and sitting at the small table. 

As you sat steeping your tea well beyond what you should have, you heard the front door open. You could sense Alfie before you could see him. The house always felt different with him in it. As if it were warmer, safer, more like home. 

You already knew something was wrong but his face confirmed it when he turned the corner into the kitchen. 

You’d seen many emotions on Alfie’s face over the years. He was one to wear his reactions clearly on his face, never able to hide them, at least not from you. You’d seen anger there, shock, horror, frustration. But you’d also seen happiness, contentment, and love.

Tonight, though, you only saw sadness. 

He didn’t need to say anything. You already knew he knew. And your mind starting running on overdrive trying to work out how he’d found out. _Had Tommy told him? Had a neighbor seen? Did he even know the extent of it? _

Your heart raced. You felt faint. But he snapped you out of your panic it when he spoke, the sound of his voice always bringing you back down to reality.

“We need to talk,” was all he said. 

You looked into your tea, unable to immediately respond. You were paralized–so fearful for what would come next. 

It wasn’t that you were afraid of Alfie, he’d never been rough or cruel with you. Rather, you were terrified of hurting him. It was the last thing in the world you wanted. But you knew it was too late. The damage had been done.

“What did he tell you?” he asked, calmly taking the seat across the table from you. He placed his hat on the table and you watched as he spun the ring on his thumb while he awaited your answer.

You cleared your throat, pushing down the sob that was trying to break free. 

“Nothing,” you finally answered after an awkward silence. 

But Alfie wasn’t buying that and he stared at you until you gave him what he wanted.

“He said you’re lying to me,” you finally offered.

“Hmm,” he nodded in response. “And I suppose you believe him? Is it the gypsy thing, then?”

“Alfie, you know me better than that,” you said, wiping a single tear away from your cheek. “I just don’t know what to believe.”

“What is it, then? Eh? Cause I’ve been wracking my fucking brain and I can’t piece it together.”

“I can’t either, Alf,” you said with a small shrug.

His gaze was too much for you to bear and you turned your head away, trying to concentrate on the kettle rather than looking at the disappointment on his face. 

“Look at me, love.” 

The way he used your pet name restored a bit of hope in your heart. You felt your face warm with the thought that maybe you’d be able to salvage this.

You did as he asked and turned back to look at him.

“Why on earth would I ever willingly do business with those dirty fuckin’ Russians? Hm? You know they butchered my mother!” Alfie’s anger had finally gotten the best of him and he slammed his hand on the table. 

You just blinked back the tears and mustered the strength to respond. 

“But you are, Alfie. Are you seriously going to deny that?”

“Here you sit, yeah? Letting Tommy fuckin’ Shelby get into your fuckin’ head. Letting that gypsy scum play games and cloud your judgement.”

“Gypsy scum?” it was your turn to grow angry. “How dare you,” you said, clenching your fists to keep your hands from shaking. 

“You believe I’m doing this willingly?”

“I told you, I don’t know what to believe–”

“–And you fuckin’ kissed him,” he interrupted, shaking his head.

There it was. You couldn’t respond–could barely breathe. You had no idea what you’d say even if you rouse the strength to push words from your throat. There was nothing _to_ say. 

Alfie rubbed his hand over his face and let out a deep breath. You could tell he was trying to control his anger, that he was struggling himself to decide how to proceed. 

“Maybe it’s best if I leave for a while.” 

His words felt like a kick in the gut. Your heart dropped to your stomach. You weren’t surprised to hear them, but were devastated it’d come to this.

“It should be me that goes,” you responded.

Alfie just nodded and looked away, training his vision on the kettle himself as he tried to avoid your sad expression as you’d done to avoid his earlier. 

The next hour passed painfully as your packed a small suitcase. You purposely took very little, still hopeful you’d come back to the house you shared with Alfie. He’d said “for a while,” not “forever.” And that gave you hope, even if it was a minuscule amount. 

You knew you wouldn’t need much where you were going, anyway. So why bother.

He sat in the same spot at the kitchen table as you packed and prepared to leave. The sun had just come up, and the fog lay thick in the street outside the house. He’d called Ollie to drive you, and he sat silently in the car parked outside. 

Alfie walked with you to the door.

It broke your heart to break his. You knew this was your own doing, but Alfie somehow seemed as if he thought it was his fault. He didn’t say as much, but you knew him well enough to know what his eyes said even when he didn’t speak. 

In a desperate attempt to reassure him, you raised a hand to his cheek and looked deep into his eyes once more. 

“For what it’s worth, I never wanted him. It’s always been you, Alfie.”

Alfie chuckled and shook his head–a gesture he used to make often and one that sent a chill down your spine. You realized in that moment that you’d been missing your Alfie for a long time now. He reached up to mirror your own movement, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You know, love, I think it’s incredibly sad you actually believe that.”

* * *

The car pulled up outside of the imposing estate and you took a deep breath. This was going to be more difficult than you were prepared for, but you knew it had to be done. You left your small suitcase in the back seat and asked Ollie to wait for you, assuring him you’d be back before too long to continue your journey.

You reached slowly for the brass knocker, suddenly afraid of what you knew you’d find on the other side of the large wooden doors. 

  
Within seconds, the door opened and a large, dark haired woman in a maids uniform was standing in the entry. She looked at you, without saying a word, and waited for you to speak first.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“My name is (Y/N) and I’m here to see Duchess Petrovna.”


End file.
